Treasured Gift
by heaven with angels
Summary: Twenty years after the fall of Voldemort, a new tension is arrising amongst the wizarding world. When Ron and Hermione's daughter steps off the Hogwarts express with a ring on her finger, can the family pull together to save everything that they've given
1. Chapter 1

—Prologue—

The crackling of the dying fire filled the quiet room as a cake-coated paper plate was recklessly flung into the embers.

I scooped down to grab another of the offending items off my newly carpeted floor and tossed that one with even greater force into the fire alongside its comrade. Wincing, I straightened up and looked around at my devastated sitting room. Loosening my noose-like tie, I reasoned that I could easily repair the firework dents in my walls and could have dried the spilt champagne and Butterbeer with a flick of my wand.

When I'm wallowing in self-pity, however, I prefer to do things the stubbornly hard way. Sinking down into one of my new "magically enlarged" couches, I gazed around at the uncanny representation of what my life had been like for the last thirteen months.

If you're wondering, 'What could have possibly happened to that poor man to leave him in such straits?' then you have obviously never been involved in wedding preparations.

Try wedding preparations for an immediate family of thirty-one—and that's just the bride's side. Now, I can complain for hours to anybody close enough to hear about how much this wedding is costing me…although I won't do that yet; it's much too early in my story to send you into a catatonic state of shock. I could also complain about how much work I've done, or how little sleep I've gotten, but really, I wouldn't be telling you what's truly bothering me.

If you're a father, you'll understand the story I'm about to tell you. The first time you hold your newborn baby girl in your arms, you promise her that you'll protect her for the rest of your life and more. But no matter how much love you give her, its love that will eventually steal her away in the end.

There's a time when you worry about her meeting the wrong guy, the kind of guy that wants only one bloody thing. And you know in absolute vivid detail what that one thing is, because it's the exact same thing you wanted when you were their age. But then they get older, you stop worrying about them meeting the wrong guy and start worrying about them meeting the right guy.

I raked one of my awkwardly big hands through my thick red hair, and, sighing, leaned back into my favorite chair in my, now, all too empty house.

God, I miss her already. She's been gone two sodding hours. How am I going to live without her all the time? Well…I lived without her while she was at Hogwarts; I'll manage again somehow…why is her mother taking this so much better than I am?

With a little shake of my head, I leaned forward onto my knees. Her mother has always been the level-headed one anyway. But wait…before I let my mind wander too much; let me tell you what hell I've been going through for the past year. If you think I'm overreacting now, just listen. Just listen…


	2. Chapter 2

This takes me back thirteen months ago, to the beginning of my story, before the storm hit…

"Hermioneee…" I whined in exasperation. Glancing sharply down at my watch again, I waved his hand through the open front door of their home.

"Ron, please." She said softly, glaring at me. "Stop acting like a child. I know we're late, but the house needs to be perfect for when Danielle gets home." Her eyes narrowed as I made a show of glancing grandly at my watch again. "And stop looking at your watch every four seconds…"

Her muggle sundress rose over her knees as she flicked her wand rapidly around the dining room, repairing the shattered window pane.

"My, we're bossy today aren't we?" I smirked, closing the front door and taking out my own wand.

I paused, momentarily enjoying the rise and fall of fabric over her legs, before smiling and levitating the curtains back onto the wrack from where they lay heaped on the ground. "Wingardium Leviosa. So, you say he was trying to open the drapes?"

"Yes, he was sitting in that chair," she pointed to a plush navy arm chair with a book lying open on its arm, "And he didn't want to get up to open the curtains."

"So, he just wanted them to open, and this happened?" I asked, with a grimace on my face. I fought the urge to look at my watch again, and waved my wand across the scorch marks surrounding the picture window.

"Tuh," Hermione rolled her eyes at me, and sighed. "Dean!" she called. The room was now clean and I gripped her shoulders and hurried her towards the door again. "Dean! We're leaving, now! Come on, hurry!"

"That was a big mess for a nine year old Hermione…" I grinned, hearing the thud of a book closing upstairs.

"You don't know the half of it."

She turned to me, with a mix of pride and nervousness in her voice. "He didn't just want it, Ron, he told me it wasn't accidental magic." Silencing the question on my tongue, she cut me off. "Just listen. He told me he thought really hard about what he wanted to do, pointed his finger at the drapes, and just 'willed it to happen,'" she quoted.

I gaped. What she just told me was supposed to be impossible. Of course children did wandless magic. It wasn't unheard of that children caused large explosions like this. It was actually the only kind of accidental magic the twins did when they were young. But learning to control magic, as a child, without a wand, was, absolutely unheard of. I said as much.

"Ron, it's not unheard of. I've done some research." She slapped my arm when I rolled my eyes. "It's just extraordinarily rare."

'Extraordinarily rare.' I shifted in the doorway and a smile twitched at my lips. I leaned down quickly and gave Hermione a fleeting kiss, matching the look of pride now shamelessly gracing her face. Grinning impishly, I deepened the kiss as I felt her hands sneak up and straighten my collar.

"That," I heard a voice and moved my eyes up onto the stairwell, leaving my lips on my wife's, "is absolutely revolting." I straightened up with a smirk.

"Look! You made your poor mother blush." It was true. Hermione flicked her eyes sternly at me, and smoothed the front of her flowered dress.

Stealing a look at my watch, I pushed her roughly through the doorway, and motion to my son.

"Dean, come on, let's hurry. Before your father gets frantic." She snickered and dodged a kiss I aimed to plant on her.

Dean waved a hand at the stairwell across the way, and it swung slowly towards him. As he jumped down the first few steps and raced towards us, I attempted to close my once again gaping mouth.

"He can call the stairwell?" I whispered incredulously.

Hermione grabbed my hand and hurried me towards the car. Turning around and watching the stairwell swing back into its original position after Dean had hurtled off the bottom steps, I shook my head.

"Dumbledore could call the stairwells at school, Ron," she shushed. Choosing to ignore my sarcastic snort, she allowed me to open the car door for her, and sank inside.

"Oh! Well if Dumbledore could do it, of course it's perfectly reasonable that our nine-year-old can."

Eighteen years ago, when I realized that Hermione was pregnant with Danielle, my present to her and the baby was the building of our home, Kingsfield Manor. When Hermione learned that I had contracted Alicia Spinnet, who was, at the time, recently engaged to my brother George, to architecturally design and build Kingsfield, she took it upon herself to delve into "Hogwarts: A History" and add some of the more fascinating intricacies of Hogwarts to our own home.

The stairwell was one of them. It fascinated guests, and charmed Hogwarts alumni with a sense of old-home. After eighteen years, though, all it meant to me was that when I awoke to go to the bathroom in the night, I had a fifty-fifty chance of making it to the bathroom on the other side of the house.

Seeing as I was neither Dumbledore, nor my son, and the stairwell had no inclination to change position at my beckon-call, after one nearly disastrous and embarrassing occasion, I learned to keep a broom in the bedroom closet. Just in case.

I loved our home. It was where I brought my new born children home from the hospital, where I taught them to fly brooms, and where Hermione taught them to read. I glanced at it in the rearview mirror. The golden plaque above the door glinted its inscription merrily in the daylight: "Welcome to Kingsfield Manor," and under that, "Weasley is our King."

A snap behind me told me that my son was now securely in the car. "Finally…" I muttered. Grabbing at the keys, I gunned the engine and threw it into reverse.

"Umph!" Hermione jerked slightly in her seat at the quick acceleration. "Ron!" she hissed. "Really, is that absolutely necessary…?"

"Hermione," I hissed back, mimicking her. She rolled her eyes, and pushed the invisibility button. As the air shimmered around us, I threw it into gear, and we shot expertly into the sky.

"Every single year, for the last seven years, we have been the last ones to King's Cross," I reminded her. She 'psh'ed me again, but smiled resignedly.

I took that as my cue to take her hand in my own, and to floor it the rest of the way.

I could hear the soft chugging noise around me as I lingered in that content realm between sleep and awareness. I was vaguely aware of the weight of an arm around my waist, and of the lulling motion of wheels on tracks, but remained blissfully unconscious of source or reason for a few seconds more.

My gradual waking didn't go unnoticed, though, and as I let my eye lids flutter open and out of the dream world, they met deliberately with the sight of gentle green ones, half hidden behind brown lashes.

"Danielle?" I knew that voice. Suddenly coming to my full awareness, I felt a strangling rush of excited happiness, and snuggled deeper into his chest.

He seemed to be waiting for a reply. "Hmm?" I shifted my weight on his lap and felt his arm effortlessly lift me closer. "How long have I been sleeping?"

"Long enough for my legs to go numb," He muttered jokingly. I glanced up to catch his smirk and dug my butt bones into his legs in return.

"I love you, too, Adrian," I smirked. Looking down, I realized we were both wrapped in his cloak as a blanket. "Did anyone come by while I was asleep?" I pressed my nose to the green and silver trim. It smelled like him.

"Kaitlin," he answered, referring to my cousin. "And then the fifth and sixth year prefects checked in with their reports," he grinned, watching my reaction. He knew I hated public displays of affection.

I made to sit up, but his arm held me in place. "You know," I said, flicking him in the chest playfully, "If this weren't my last year, I'd be mortified by that."

"Oh, come on," he laughed, and propped his legs up grandiosely on the bench across from us. "Everyone knows the Head Boy and Girl are sleeping together…"

I swung my legs off his lap and reached to pull the blinds of our compartment down. "In your dreams, Nott," I sighed dramatically. Ignoring the waggle of his eyebrows and the eager nod of his head, I attempted to prop my legs up alongside his.

Being at least a foot shorter than his 6'2, I only managed this by sliding down almost the entire way in my seat. I grinned up at him defiantly and attempted to match his look of superiority.

"Good thing you're cute," he grinned in return, locking the door with a flick of his wand, "or that'd be bloody pathetic." He scooped his arms around my waist and hoisted me back onto his lap.

"Adrian! Don't swear…umph," His lips enclosed upon my own, forcing me into silence. He gradually let up the pressure, and when he was sure that I had forsaken my rant, he gently eased his lips off mine.

He would have looked triumphant because of that small victory, but the stupid grin on his face gave him away. "Don't you mean," I grinned, tugging loose his silver and green tie, "Good thing I have you totally wrapped around my little finger?"

I slid his tie up off his neck and pulled it up to his forehead. "That too," he agreed, laughing. I pulled it tightly secure around his head and watched little tufts of brown hair bunch and spill over the top of it. "And I'm supposed to let you dress me for the rest of my life?"

I nodded seriously, and draped his cloak back over our bodies. "Would you like to hear about my dream?" I asked. I settled into his chest, facing the window.

"You're going to tell me no matter what my answer is, I suppose" he mused sarcastically. I nodded, and he wrapped an arm around my waist. "Alright then," he sighed, but I could feel his smile in the tone of his voice as I watched the fields spin by in the window.

"It was about the first time we met," I began to tell.

"Who's that?" I asked my new best friend Lillian. We were seated at dinner, and I pointed across the great hall at a small brown haired boy sitting all alone at the end of the Slytherin table.

"Hmph?" Lillian's mouth was stuffed with roasted potatoes. "Ish Adrian Nosh," she muttered incoherently. The boy's hair was left long enough to fully hide his eyes from my view.

"Adrian Nosh?" I questioned. As a rule, Slytherins and Gryffindors didn't give each other as much as a second glance or the time of day, yet this boy, a first year like myself, sat all by himself at dinner every night.

She swallowed a sip of pumpkin juice. "Adrian Nott," she corrected. "Why?"

I felt her eyes narrow questioningly, and although I was nervous to test the limits of the friendship I had just formed in my first week at Hogwarts, my curiosity, as always, got the best of me.

"Don't they like him?" I asked, referring to the other Slytherins. None of them so much as glanced twice in his direction. None seemed to care that he was all alone.

"How should I know how they think," she asked disdainfully, in true Gryffindor fashion.

My father had always told me stories warning of the Slytherins and their evil ways, yet my mother had assured me that stereotyping was a very ignorant thing to do, and that not all Slytherins were bad. She would then glare at my father.

I watched him closely for the next week, at meals and in class. He seemed intelligent enough, although my father always told me that all Slytherins were brainless gits, and he had yet to show signs of being innately evil, another trait I was assured that all Slytherins possessed.

So, a week later, at dinner, I made up my mind to ask him why no one spoke with him. I got up and brought my plate with me, crossing the dining hall to the Slytherin table. Ignorant of the stares at my back, I smiled politely.

"May I have this seat?" I asked, trying hard to remember the proper manners my mother had taught me for dinner time etiquette. They had seemed pointless at the time.

I learned later that a Gryffindor sitting with a Slytherin was something that was "Simply not done." But this was only my second week. How was I to have known that?

He looked guarded and confused, but replied simply, "Yes, you may," and pulled his plate towards him. Apparently, he wasn't aware of this rule either.

After a few moments of eating in uncomfortable silence, I dragged up the courage to speak to him.

"Do you like eating alone? I'm sorry if I interrupted you." I thought it might seem like a less offensive question if I phrased it as an apology. To my immense surprise, he smirked at me.

"Oh, yes," he replied sarcastically, "I love the solitude and perpetual silence." It was the first time he had ever really looked me in the eye, and I was surprised to find that his eyes weren't the typical lifeless gray I had imagined, but a gentle green, easily lit by the small smile he was now giving me. It immediately unwound my nerves like a string being snapped.

I returned his smile and reached for a roll across the table. "Why don't you sit with them then?" I questioned, inclining my head towards his fellow housemates. It was the first time I noticed them staring coldly, almost angrily, at me.

"We learned early on," he answered me calmly, "that we don't agree on lots of things." He didn't seem fazed by this though, and he returned their cold stare with one of his own.

He was easily one of the smallest boys in Slytherin house, and I hoped to bring his attention back to myself. I didn't want to invoke some kind of fight, as I would sure he would be on the losing end, fiery though he seemed.

"What kinds of things?" He brought his gaze back to me and it once again took on its comfortable look.

"Like the morality of torturing and killing Muggles," he returned bluntly, ignoring my look of shocked surprise, "or cheating on Charms exams." He said them like they were two equally immoral things. As morbid as it was, it made me laugh.

At first, he looked surprised to see me laughing, but, as though it were contagious, he began to chuckle along with me. We continued discussing things like our potions essay, how boring Professor Binns' class was, and how he was planning on trying out for the Slytherin Quidditch team.

I asked him then the question that had been bothering me all week. "If you don't get along with the Slytherins at all, then, why were you sorted into this house?"

I was afraid he'd been offended, but he took the question in stride. "Slytherins are known for more than animosity and cruelty you know…" He grinned when I blushed.

I knew it was true. The chorus about cleverness and wit came back to me from the song of the Sorting hat. I was about to answer when a shadow dropped over my plate. Looking up, I saw the face of a Slytherin boy I didn't recognize.

He seemed only slightly older than I, yet the look on his face was quite possibly the most hostile I had seen in my life. He leaned down slightly, and I shuddered as his robes brushed against my arm. All of his being was radiating malice, and I visibly recoiled.

"What do you want, Corso?" I heard Adrian ask. I saw the glare in his eye and remembered where I was. Straightening my back, I turned and matched the defiant glare that Adrian was giving the boy.

He simply sneered and flicked my fork with his hand, sending it clattering to the ground.

"Pick it up, now." For someone so small, Adrian was now almost frighteningly livid.

"Defending the little…"

Another figure was now by my side, and he cut the boy, Corso, off. "I would watch what you call my friend here, Joseph," Sirius was now bending to pick up my fork. He had a smirk on his face. Sirius never stopped smiling. His anger was always in his eyes.

He pressed the sauce covered fork into the front of Joseph Corso's robes, and looked up into his eyes.

I almost flinched again when I saw the corners of the other boy's lips turn up in a snarl as he snatched the fork off his robe. He looked ready to either shoot a nasty reply or throw a punch, but Sirius's eyes widened slightly, and their color flickered threateningly from their usual vivid blue to a darker simmering shade.

Recoiling slightly, Corso spat, "Keep your Gryffindor filth away from our table, Lupin," and with that, he turned and stalked off.

I was about to congratulate my childhood friend until I caught the look in his eyes. They retained their darker blue color, and he grabbed my hand.

"Come on Danielle," he tugged slightly, "Let's get out of here." His gaze left no room for argument, and in light of what had just happened, I was in no place to protest.

He nodded slightly to Adrian, who returned it, and I allowed him to pull me to my feet. Sirius was in his second year, and right now, I felt like he was years my superior. I smiled apologetically at Adrian over my shoulder before hurrying off behind him.

It was Sirius who explained to me, that night, the rules of behavior between Slytherin and Gryffindor. He was kind, but firm, and reminded me of the tense times we livid in.

He sat me down with a plop next to Lillian before finally smiling and walking back to his large group of friends.

I looked to Lillian, waiting for her commentary on the situation.

"Sirius Lupin is so handsome," though, was all she had to offer. With a sigh she turned back to her meal.

I stared for a second before nodding and smiling in return. It seemed like we had reached a respected silent median with our views on Adrian Nott, and in her eyes, there was nothing to be said about it.

That was fine with me. Feeling slightly embarrassed and feeling my cheeks still hold the red blush from minutes ago, I felt it necessary to chance a look back at Adrian. To my surprise, he met my gaze as soon as I found his, and he smiled.

Going back to my meal feeing much relieved, I highly doubted that tonight would be the end of my friendship with Adrian Nott.

"I remember that night," Adrian said, the smile audible in his voice. He tugged the tie off his head and slipped it around my neck. "Although I don't remember being as terribly shrimpy as you described me…"

"Oh, but you were," I assured him. "Although you had no idea you were small. You always were a cocky little arse…" I once again felt my lips enveloped by his. Cheeky bastard.

I deepened the kiss this time before he could pull away, and I felt him respond eagerly. His hands slipped under my butt and lifted me around so I faced him on his lap. Pulling me against him with the tie he had snared me with, I let myself fall against his impatiently waiting body and give into the kiss.

Whenever the Hogwarts express got home was too soon, in my opinion.

"Ron!" I could see her gripping the dashboard tightly. "Please, slow down! We're in a parking lot for God's sake." She leaned forward and looked frantically around when she got no response from me.

"Hermione, what part of late has it taken your brilliant mind seven years to grasp?" She looked at me angrily and I saw the color rise to her face. I turned the wheel sharply down another aisle, this one more crammed full than the first.

"Ron, honestly, you keep saying that like it's my fault…"

"Dad! Look out!" Dean's voice from the backseat shocked my reflexes into action and I slammed on the breaks. My eyes only had two split seconds to register Remus Lupin's frightened face before he disappeared.

Images of my long time friend under my tires flashed across my mind.

"Oh!" Hermione squeaked next to me. "Remus! Thank God you're alright!" she exclaimed, accenting every word with a violent slap on my arm. He stood just to the right of our car, unharmed, but breathing heavily.

As I fumbled for the handle and jumped out of the car, I guiltily took in the look of fading panic on his face. He smiled at me, though, and shook his head.

"Thank God you had the presence of mind to Apparate out of the way!" Tonks was now running up behind him, her hair a vibrant Weasley red. She grabbed his arm, and smiled at Hermione and me. "It's too nice of a car to have your old werewolf guts mucking it up."

He laughed with her, and pulled her grip off his arm and into his hand. "It is a nice car, Ron," he complimented.

I smiled my thanks and had the decency to look ashamed when Hermione threw me the keys and told me to park in a spot three cars down.

"I can see the headlines now," Tonks was saying when I got out of the car. She smirked at me, "Minister of Magic Impaled on Head Ornament, Owner of Quantum Leaps Persecuted."

"Quantum Leaps Brooms Bankrupt after Ministry Law Suit," I added.

I grabbed Hermione by the hand and pulled her after me. I heard Remus chuckle behind me and could only assume that Hermione was shooting me an exasperated look behind my back. I chose not to check.

"Speaking of which, how's business lately, Ron?" Remus asked, hands in his pockets and strolling at a leisurely pace. We were a long walk from the station and I tried to quicken my stride.

"Brilliantly," I answered. "The Quantum 360 out sold Nimbus by seventy thousand last month." It was the first time since the original Quantum Leap that we had out-sold both Nimbus and Firebolt. I tried my best not to look as pleased with myself as I felt.

I saw Dean start to jog next to me, and I smiled to myself as he took off ahead of us. That's my boy. I gave Hermione's hand another tug and felt her nails dig into my palm. Damn.

"I'm glad to have contributed to that seventy thousand plus, then," Tonks said to my right. I was about to question her when she answered for me. "We bought Sirius a 360 for his nineteenth birthday last month."

Ahead of me, I saw Dean stop jogging and rush in between a small green Smart Car and a blindingly bright pink BMW bug. I strained my eyes and watched my son scoop a small glowing little girl into his arms and spin her around.

Only one person in the world owned a car that outrageous. But why would they be here?

"Remus?" Something finally dawned on me. "Why are you here?" He raised his eyebrows at me. "I mean," that had come out rudely, "Sirius graduated last year."

I hadn't even registered this until a few seconds ago. Sirius wouldn't be getting off the Hogwarts express this year. I turned around in time to see Hermione shoot a warning look at Tonks.

"What?" I frowned at her. I hated when she did that. "What was that?" Turning back around, I watched my son carry the little girl towards the station, talking animatedly while he walked.

"Ron, honestly. What was what for?" She sounded exasperated. That was all the response I got. Know-it all.

Even from here, the little girl in Dean's arms radiated an innocent charisma mixed with an almost tangible child-like beauty. She was unmistakable. He hoisted her up onto his shoulders and a giddy laugh drifted back towards us. It was adorably charming. I had immediately recognized her as my niece, Sophie.

"Hermione, honestly." It was always a dangerous thing to mock my lovely wife. Her eyebrows narrowed. Still, the sun was hot on my neck, and I knew I was missing a piece to the puzzle. "And why are they here?" I pointed ahead of us.

Bill and Fleur stepped out from behind the cars and waved to us. Tonks and Remus behind me waved in return. Hermione smiled at them and nudged me in the ribs. I gave a small wave and smile before turning back to glare at her.

"Lovely day today, eezn't it?" Age did nothing to this woman, I realized. She turned and kissed Bill on the cheek before dislodging herself from his arm. If anything, age only made her more striking.

"Bill, why are you here?" Nails were dug deeper into my palm, but I felt it was a perfectly valid question; their kids attended Beauxbatons. I realized we were no longer moving towards the station, and opted to continue the conversation on the move.

"Good to see you too, Ron," he shook my hand and grinned, but his eyes flicked to Hermione's.

It was like everyone was playing monkey in the middle with my missing puzzle piece. He fell into step next to me, still smirking in the face of my waiting stare. "We got a letter from Danielle," he answered finally, but not before glancing at Hermione again.

A gorgeous teenage girl strode up next to me. "We're eating your food,"

"And crashing in your beds," An identically attractive girl with shimmering strawberry golden hair appeared from behind her twin.

"For the next two days." The first girl finished.

"Is that so?" They linked their arms through both of mine, relieving my hand from Hermione's nails. It was the first time I had heard any of this.

"Our host seems so prepared," Brigitte called sarcastically to her twin.

"The welcome was outstanding," Juliette returned, matching the sarcasm.

"Why are you here!" Brigitte let her lip hang to the side as she mimicked me.

They turned from me to Bill. "You left the keys in the ignition, Dad." Juliette tossed a pair of car keys her father.

"I think he wants it stolen," her sister grinned.

"He's embarrassed to drive the thing," Juliette said to me, patting her father on the arm. He nodded honestly, grimacing.

We had reached the glass doors at the entrance and Dean stood holding them open for us, Sophie still on his shoulders.

"Danielle told us she had talked to you," Fleur was saying to Hermione as they passed through. She reached out for Sophie as she walked in. Dean closed his eyes and pointed to the door, then let go and pulled Sophie off his shoulders. It stayed obediently open until he passed her to Fleur and resumed his post.

"Yes, she wrote me." Hermione smiled at Fleur, and gestured at me. "I thought it was a wonderful idea to have the family together. Don't mind my husband," I started to protest, and she cut me off, "He was tragically born without a brain."

I hadn't even realized we had arrived at the barrier. I was about to point out the fact that I, the brainless one, was tragically left without a letter of any sort, but was never given the chance.

"Platform nine and three-quarters," Brigitte said, gripping my arm.

"Let me help you." Juliette grabbed the back of my robes and, with her twin, thrust me through. Did I have no allies? I scanned the platform quickly and noticed a large congregation of redheads towards the front of the platform.

"You two," I muttered, once again taking the arms of the twins that had just appeared through the barrier behind me, "Are a pair of monsters." Much to my amusement, heads all around the platform snapped towards us.

The male population seemed shocked by Brigitte and Juliette. I grinned as I saw eyes dart back and forth between my two fifteen year old nieces, wide and gaping stupidly. "Well, only because you know our personalities," Juliette scoffed, like it were a inconsequential detail.

They dragged me away from the barrier and out of the way. "We're right little charmers on the outside," Brigitte smiled at a young man leaning on a luggage cart. He nearly fell onto the tracks in shock.

My mother spotted us and waved frantically to me and then to Hermione, Remus, and Tonks, appearing through the barrier one after the other.

One of the things I've learned about redheads is that we talk a lot, and we talk loudly. As I scooted my way between the other waiting parents and towards the Weasley mass, the sound of chatter grew increasingly overwhelming.

Good God, they were all here. Bill walked over towards Charlie and his wife Rachel as Fleur bent gracefully to kiss my mother's cheeks. We must have numbered over twenty-five people. Had they all gotten some kind of letter from Danielle?

"Hermione!" Ginny shoved George to the side to make way for herself. She had Harry by the sleeve of his jumper, towing him behind her. Hermione pulled her into a quick hug, and then kissed Harry on the cheek.

Ginny stood on her tip-toes and wrapped her arms around my neck. "Ron," she seemed to glow with happiness. "Oh, Ron, Ron," she smiled again and dropped down. She had practically been hanging from my neck she was so much shorter than I.

I must have looked as confused as I felt because Harry clapped me on the back and shook his head. Hermione was now whispering hurriedly with her and blushing with a happiness that matched Ginny's.

"I assume Danielle wrote to you, too?" I asked him. Harry was my best friend; he'd be my ally.

"Yeah," he nodded knowingly. "Big announcement or something, OUCH!" Ginny had pinched his arm. She smiled sweetly and shook her head. "What was that for? Ow!" She pinched him a second time. "Bloody hell…" he turned back to me, defeat written on his face.

"Sorry, mate. I can't say anything." So much for an ally. He shrugged and rubbed his arm, then stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Well, I suppose now we knew where loyalties lay. I guess I didn't have the assets he required in a best friend. I said as much.

Harry snickered, and winked. "What was that, Ron?" Ginny was at my side. Harry immediately attempted to look innocent. Damn, she hears everything.

"I was just telling Harry how lucky he was to have such a smashingly beautiful wife," I grinned largely, and she rolled her eyes.

She looked ready to shoot me a sarcastic reply but a sharp train whistle cut her off. I whirled around, and grabbed Hermione's hand. Pulling her towards the front of the tracks, I saw the steam billow out from the tunnel. Another whistle sounded, and the Hogwarts express bounded into the station.

"Oof! Ron, really, do watch where you're going…" I muttered a quick apology to Percy. He stood grasping the hand of a little red-headed girl tightly. He nodded to me, and I pulled Hermione forward to the edge of the tracks.

She stood on her tip-toes and pulled me down into a kiss. My eyes widened in pleasurable surprise, and she sank back down. Smiling and squeezing my hand, she whispered, "She's home."

I couldn't possibly hear what she said over the noise of the crowd or the train screeching to a halt, but I knew what it was. She's home. My Danielle was home.

I remember how horrible it was every year to get off the Hogwarts express and go home for the summer. The Dursleys were always, without fail, waiting with generous helpings of malice and discomfort. It meant leaving Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the Weasleys for two months. I had always envied the warm welcomes they'd received, and the tears of joy shed for them from their families.

As I looked around at the sea of red heads, all bouncing and about to bubble over with delight, I thanked Merlin for the way my life had turned out. When my son got off the train today, he'd see his family. His huge family, with all their love and warmth, welcoming him home for the summer.

Hisses sounded all across the platform, and, in unison, the compartment doors of the train glided open. I stepped back. This was the part where mass chaos and confusion broke loose.

I glanced to my right, and saw Remus had followed suit and backed away from the train. Children began to pour from the doors, heavy trunks thumping down the steps and onto the ground. I was supposed to be keeping my eye on Remus today. The ministry had tried to insist on a full Auror guard for the Minister. The Minister insisted I was all he needed.

I agreed, and here we were. Being Commander and Chief of the Auror squad had its few perks, I supposed. Several cars down, I spotted the first familiar face.

"Oi, Fred!" When he looked up I nodded my head in the direction of the compartment. He tugged Angelina's sleeve and pinched her butt. Giggling, she slapped at his hand, and began to pull him in the direction he pointed out.

Their son Oliver and four other fourth year boys hopped down the steps, dragging their trunks behind them. His owl hooted happily in her cage and bobbed its head repeatedly into the bars of the cage. The summer after Oliver's first year, his owl, Whizbang, had been on the wrong end of an experiment in the shop and had never been quite normal since.

As Fred swept his arms extravagantly side to side and plowed a pathway for Angelina, their one year old baby Bella sat perched on her hip gurgling contentedly as people shot them frustrated glances.

I scanned the cars again, looking for another familiar face. It didn't take long. Just one car away from where Oliver had just come, my searching eyes landed on a tall figure, with hazel eyes, and a shock of undeniably messy hair.

"Gin," I called. Following where I was pointing, she headed off in his direction. He was pulling two large trunks behind him, each emblazoned with glimmering prefects' seals.

He had grown even more over the year, I mused, although he had always been bigger than I. To this day, I remained frustratingly, though consistently, skinny. James, on the other hand, always having been well nourished, was taller and more developed than I had ever hoped to be.

People pointed as Ginny made her way through the crowd. Some even waved and called hello. I snickered when she blushed, and listened to the calls from the crowd.

"It's Ginny Potter!"

"She was the Chaser for the Falcons! Ginny! Over here!"

"Look, it's Ginny Potter!"

She smiled and took it all in stride. I was just glad they hadn't spotted me yet. I glanced once at Remus, and then back to James. With a clunk, both trunks dropped off the final step, and he turned around and offered his hand to the figure that had just appeared in the doorway. She took it, and hopped down, brown ponytail bouncing behind her.

An instant later, my heart panged as I caught a flicker of something on James' face. I knew that look. I blew out a whistle of breath.

James brushed her hands away from her trunk and insisted on carrying them himself. After a few seconds, she shrugged her shoulders and smiled her thanks to him. I watched him take up both their trunks, and nod to her with a grin.

Then she did it. Her old Quidditch tee-shirt rose slightly around her waist and she kissed him sweetly on the cheek in thanks. And I completely recognized what I was seeing.

She turned and began to walk away, lips pressed together tightly in a failed attempt to repress a grin. As James once again took up both their trunks behind him, they resumed what looked to be a heated discussion. But I didn't miss it.

His eyes had widened ever so slightly, and his cheek twitched faintly as if he itched to touch it, to savor the feeling and to brush against what would be tingling nerves. She certainly didn't notice these subtlties, and by the look of confusion on his face, James was oblivious as to what to make of them also.

Maybe because I've been there, or maybe it takes a Potter to recognize that look, but I recognized it immediately. He was falling. And when a Potter falls, we fall hard.

As they made their way towards us, Ginny met them half-way, and levitated the trunks out of her son's hands. He gave her quick kiss and a hug.

I couldn't help but smile larger. She looked beside herself with joy to see him. I hadn't gone a day all year without her mentioning how much she missed him. I had asked if I wasn't good enough company for her. She said simply that he was more handsome than I was, and that was all there was to it. She would then drag me up to the bedroom for the rest of the morning. Life was good.

When they finally managed to make it through the crowd to where I stood with Remus, George and Alicia threw their arms around James' companion.

"Hey, pumpkin!" George lifted her off her feet and swung her around. "Was being a prefect as terrible as you thought it'd be?" He set her down and allowed her to hug Alicia.

"Hi, Mum! Hi, Daddy," she smirked at George, "No! Lord Dad, you were missing out on so much. It's so much easier to break the rules when you're a Prefect; you have no idea."

"Kaitlin Wood!" Alicia tried her best to look disapproving. "Prefects are supposed to enforce rules…" I remember how beside himself George was when he found out he and Alicia were being made guardians of Kaitlin when she was two years old. He had always thought Alicia and he would never be able to have children. It was the one ray of light in Oliver and Katie Wood's deaths.

I shuddered at the suddenly unpleasant memory and forced my mind back to the present. James and Kaitlin were once again arguing quietly, though their gestures swung wildly around, causing Ginny to duck away and back towards me.

"England really has a chance though, James," she insisted. "If they fill that open spot for Keeper with the right person, they have a running chance at the cup." Her eyes blazed with an intensity that I identified from memories of Oliver Wood.

I opened my arms and Ginny ducked inside them. "No way," James protested, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his broad chest. He towered over her, but it seemed to me that Kaitlin easily matched him. "There's no one in the pick capable of managing that. They need so many points. It'd have to be a virtually flawless Keeper." He shook his head again. "They're just not going to find anyone like that right now."

She again began outlining a Quidditch pitch with her hands, and mimicking the motions of the balls. I looked back towards the train. There was one last person we were waiting for. She would be the last one off of course. The Head Boy and Girl always were.

I laid my head on Ginny's shoulder while I waited. I loved how soft the skin on her cheek always felt. She insisted she loved how rough mine was. "Look, it's Ginny Potter," I whispered in her ear. Her hair fluttered forward a little with my breath.

"Yes, isn't she fabulous?" Ginny replied, nuzzling her cheek against mine. "Didn't she marry that Potter fellow? Barry or something?" She giggled when I 'Hmphed'.

"Yes, the Boy-Who-Got-Old-And-Boring-And-Didn't-Do-Anything-Half-As-Exciting-As-Play-Professional-Quidditch, or something like that," I added seriously, trying not to laugh.

"Psh. Right. First of all, thirty-seven is hardly old, love. Second of all, what do you suppose would happen if I said 'Harry Potter' loud enough for anyone to hear?" I could feel her smirk on my cheek, and I glanced around nervously.

I pushed my sunglasses farther up on my nose and unconsciously pulled my baseball cap lower. "Don't test it, dear," I pleaded and smiled when she laughed at me.

"That's what I thought you modest arse." I replied by wrapping my arms around her waist and sighing as "modestly" as I could manage.

"But I'm Ginny Potter's modest arse."

She laughed and leaned back against me. "Too right you are."

A few moments later, I saw her come out of the compartment. Oh, wow. As her Godfather, I felt had every right to feel the immodest pride I felt when I saw how beautiful Danielle looked…and how grown-up.

Her glittering Head Girl badge shimmered in the light of the platform and I managed to take in how alight and happy she looked. From deep in her blue eyes, it radiated down through all her features.

"She has the look of a woman in love," Ginny was saying in my ear. Whatever that meant, I had no idea. I just knew she looked happier than I had ever seen her.

Seconds later, she was hidden from view as Ron charged her and enveloped her in a suffocating hug. She laughed and allowed herself to be lifted clear off the ground as she squeezed him back. I watched as she scuffed Dean on the top of the head and bent to pull him into a hug also.

I almost fell flat on my face as the family surged forward. My hand went, on instinct, to the wand in my pocket, and I checked to make sure Remus was still at my side.

He smiled at me and laughed, allowing everyone to push us forward towards Danielle. They had all received the same letter as us, telling us to come for the weekend, and that she had an announcement for all of us.

It was impressive to watch her handle the attention as well as she was. She answered all of their questions in quick succession.

"Sirius said he'd meet us at the house, Dani, don't worry," Tonks was reassuring her.

"Yes, and Jaclyn will be here as zoon as she eez finished with work," Fleur added, referring to her oldest daughter.

"What's the big news, Dani?" Charlie shouted from where he stood with Rachel in the back. 'How tactful,' I thought, sarcasm dripping in my mind. He looked like he wanted to rush forward with the rest of the family, but Rachel had one hand on her rounding belly and one hand on his arm, and he stayed loyally put.

At this, the rest of the family nodded and shouted similar questions. I thought I caught a glimmer of nervousness on her face before she wiped it expertly away. The only telltale sign of nervousness was that revealing Weasley blush gracing her cheeks.

"Why don't we all go back to the house and have dinner?" I smiled as Hermione stepped forward to shield her daughter. "Ron, help everyone get their trunks to the cars, and we'll all meet at Kingsfield?"

She looked to Ron, and for the first time, I realized that he was in a state of semi-catatonic silence. His mouth hung open, and he was staring blankly at the hand of Danielle's that he held in his own. I, along with everyone else, strained forward to see what the source was. He began to splutter as he lifted her hand closer to his face.

She was blushing fully now, and seemed unsure as to whether to pull her hand away or not. "What…What is this?" he managed. On the ring finger of her right hand sat a band of what looked like braided gold and silver, and a diamond so large it seemed impressive from here.

Tension and excitement broke out like a tangible shock. I had expected everyone to burst into whispers, but surprisingly, everyone leaned forward, totally silent, waiting on edge for her response.

"This, Daddy," she said finally, turning and smiling brightly, almost cheekily, at him, "is my announcement."

As if the dams had broken, noise erupted around me. There was laughing, and there was crying, and there was screaming, and then there was the thud of Ron passing out at everyone's feet.


	3. Chapter 3

Too Late

Sunlight poured in through the kitchen window, and I reached up and turned the crank, letting in the morning air. It was refreshing. Inhaling deeply, I scanned the cabinets in the vast stretching kitchen and looked for a mug.

As far as I could tell, I was the only one here. I had stood outside for a few minutes with no answer, and, although I felt bad for entering without permission, I unlocked the front door with my wand, and came in.

"Is anyone home?" I shouted once more, just to ease my uncertainty. I didn't want to take anyone by surprise. Tension was so high these days that it was almost dangerous to catch someone off guard. Especially with my family.

Getting no answer still, I shouted one more time. "It's Jaclyn!" Having announced my presence and straining to hear anything from the far reaches of the large manor, I resigned to the fact that I was the first one here.

I had apparated longer distances that I was used to today. I had made two trips back and forth between France and England in the space of a half an hour. The effect left me with a slight headache and an ache in my chest from the continual compression and expansion of apparating.

Right now, all I needed was some tea and to sit down somewhere. I found a mug on the top shelf of a tall cabinet and levitated it down. Waving my wand a few more times, I heated the water a conjured an earl grey tea bag.

Once it was finished, I grabbed it and pulled out a chair at the table, prepared to wait. "Where is everyone?" I wondered. I wanted so badly to put my head down on the table and sleep, but I couldn't bring myself to let my guard down like that.

The little voice of worry and apprehension in my head prodded me awake, and try as I might, I couldn't relax the tense strings holding my shoulders stiff and alert. There had been too many attacks in the last year for me to even relax over a cup of tea; the enemy was in a violent upheaval of late, and no one knew quite why.

The Hogwarts express should have arrived an hour ago if I remembered correctly. I had attended Beauxbatons while I was in school, and it had been four years since I had last met the Hogwarts express.

I sipped my tea again and scolded myself mentally for letting my worries overtake me. Still, my eyes flicked around the room at intervals, and my ears remained intent in picking up any noise. I reassured myself that it wasn't fear that motivated me; it was my 'Constant vigilance.'

The minutes ticket past without occasion though, and, only half realizing it, I let my head drop heavily into my hand.

"Click." The soft noise jolted me back to awareness. My eyes sprang open only to meet the sight of a soft red canopy around me. I had drifted off, I though guiltily as I pushed my long hair behind my shoulders hastily. Uncle Harry would be so disappointed.

Although, I thought, as I pushed my chair back silently and padded quickly towards the wall, I had awoken with my hand gripped tightly around wand. Fighting to suppress a small smile, I inwardly praised my developing auror reflexes.

Pressing down on the instincts that twitched at my wand hand and urged me to curse the first person that stepped through the kitchen door, I breathed deeply and silently. Eleven months of training with Uncle Harry had taught me, as an Auror, to never, ever jump to conclusions. I smirked; it was how people lost a buttock.

My breath hitched in my chest as I listened to the noises coming closer towards me. One set of footsteps echoed through the long hallways. The visitor left their identity unknown, and silently moved from room to room, as though searching for something, or someone.

I prayed to hear the sound of more voices, loud, and boisterous, and familiar. The sounds that would mean my large family had arrived and that this intruder was simply my grandfather, or my Uncle Percy. Yet, I heard and saw nothing save the clicking of male boots closer and closer to the kitchen.

As I pressed myself against the wall next to the door, the logic flashed unwelcome across my mind. Of course today would be an ideal time for someone to enter the manor unknown. The entire family was assured to be away, all at Kings Cross to greet the Hogwarts express.

There was so much to gain by searching this house, I realized as I slowly raised my wand, and so much to loose by having it attacked. Everyone in my family was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and although Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny's house was headquarters and unplottable, the home of Ron and Hermione Weasley was an ideal target.

'And I'm all alone.' The thought flashed through my mind before I could squash it. I thought of my family as the boots drew within feet of the door, and as the knob slowly turned, I raised my wand and set my face with the firm resolve I felt surge through me.

The kitchen door swung open and like a silent animal-like predator, I swung, wand first, ready to attack.

Oh, Merlin. A wave of fear like none other I had ever felt coursed through me in a passionate sweeping motion and I felt my heart explode in my chest. Standing before me, in what could possibly have been the cruelest twist of pitiless fate, stood Sirius Lupin, in all his windblown, wide-eyed glory, my wand tip pressed against his throat.

Time seemed to blow across me as a slicing wind, picking up my world and spinning it around and leaving me paralyzed and aching, all at the same time. With no regard of my emotions, I felt them slip out of my control and display themselves across my face with no regard to situation or moment.

Emotions that I had spent months of my life living, dealing with, and finally suppressing sprang forth from the walls I had built around my heart. Hope. Mortification. Misery. Anger. Regret. And then…nothing.

The cold hand of apathy that I had survived on for the last year enclosed its grip once more around the struggling recesses of my mind, and I closed my eyes as I forcibly poured the freezing waters of time and healing over that broken and burning part of my heart. I searched for a mask to cover my naked face, and found one of cold hard indifference. With every ounce of control I possessed, I cemented this mask on my face, and met his eyes.

Trying not to show the exhaustion brought about by that resurgence of old emotions, I let my wand fall away from his pale neck and to my side. I knew in an instant that my decision to meet his eyes was a mistake. As many emotions as I had been coupled with seconds ago met their equals in his extraordinary eyes. They flashed from brilliant shades of sapphire blue, to rigid deep pools of water, to light and inextinguishable shades of azure.

I knew his eyes were the only part of him he was gifted with the ability to metamorphose, and I also knew that he only let that happen when his heart far succeeded the control of his consciousness. I knew too much, I realized as I turned my face away from his, too much to be safe.

I would have fought a group of intruders to the death before this; before I let myself show heartache in front of Sirius Lupin. With all the dignity I possessed, I willed my feet to propel me casually forward to the cabinets, where I got out another mug.

I kept my back to him, and, without apology, without explanation, asked as emotionlessly as I could manage, "Would you like some tea?"

I couldn't see his expression behind my back, but his silence was answer enough for me. I was sure he was embarrassed. He had probably been caught as off-guard as I had, I told myself, willing my heartbeat down and holding my breath. I waited for an answer, my breath still held tightly in my chest.

I heard him start, take a ragged breath, and stop. Pressing my eyes tightly closed to suppress a tear, I thanked Merlin that my back was to him. I cursed the inside of my eyelids, yet kept them closed. Images of color played themselves on the screen of my closed eyes. The many colors of Sirius Lupin's eyes…the colors of his heart.

I heard him let the door fall shut behind me, and hesitant footsteps drew closer to my back. Forgoing a response, I began to furiously prepare another mug of tea, fighting the urge to make it scalding hot. Boots clicked painfully slow across the cobblestone kitchen floor, each inching step marking reluctance in him, and nervous anticipation in myself.

He was almost to me now as I finally opened my eyes. I tried to convince myself that the threatening tears were stress induced and not those of long forgotten heartbreak. I looked down with fury and shame at my shaking hands and let the cup clatter against its saucer on the counter.

The quickened beating in my heart told me his presence was now a mere foot from mine, and without second though, I left the steaming mug on the counter for him to fetch himself, and spun around.

"Careful, it's hot," I said, before brushing past him and sitting stiffly in front of my own cup. My eyes lingered on his face for seconds long enough to catch the expression of hurt before I forced them to gaze out the open window.

'Good,' I thought bitterly. My days of being hurt were over.

Although I refused to watch his movements, I heard him scoop the steaming mug off the counter and felt his shadow cross in front of my sunlight. 'Would he want to make conversation?' I worried. I willed my cold resolve to hold as he pulled the chair across from me out with a scrape.

It had been a year since I had heard a single word from Sirius Lupin's lips. I had nothing more to say to him. There were words I had spent nights on my knees praying for him to appear and say to me. But now, it was too late. The fire in my heart protested once more, and I pressed down on it again. Too late.

"Thank you." His words came out of his mouth slowly, and yet they still caught me off guard. They didn't sound forced, or angry. On the contrary, they had a slight hint of a plea within their core. I looked up at him questioningly, and he gestured to the untouched tea in front of him.

I didn't know what else to say to him. "You're welcome." It was unemotional and empty and my lips felt numb with the cold of my own words passing through them.

The sun behind him glinted against his vibrantly black hair. He looked better than I had ever seen him, I thought against my will. His appearance was healthier and stronger than it had ever been. He was, if possible, more handsome. It was what a year apart from me had done for him. I cringed at the angst in my thoughts.

"You look good," he said softly, almost caressingly. I lifted my eyes behind my cup and studied his features. He was sincere. His face was tilted to the side and he looked…hopeful?

Hopeful for what, I didn't know. What could he possibly want from me when I had once given him everything I had to give?

Again, I didn't know how to respond. I could never repeat back to him the words that I had just been thinking about his stunning appearance, so I smiled simply, and remained silent.

Moments passed me by with painful slowness and neither one of us spoke. I allowed myself to become lost in my sea of thoughts when his voice broke through my reverie.

"You're angry." It wasn't a question. The hope from his eyes was gone, replaced by what looked like agonizing hurt. The sympathy of affection threatened to overwhelm me, and I tightened my mask about my face.

"No," I answered. It was true. I had overcome 'angry' long ago. Wounds may heal, and the pain and anger may subside, but the scars are always visible. I should have known he would be able to recognize my scars…like I recognized his eyes.

"You should be…" he whispered. The tone of his voice was gentle and ashamed and it threatened to crack at my resolve. Once again, I was left with no idea how to respond. I knew it was true.

I remained silent and impassive, and he spoke again. "Listen," his voice was hoarse and almost frightened, "I'm sorry I never…"

He stopped and I realized I had been shaking my head slowly. I didn't want to hear this. I couldn't hear this. Not now; it would be too much.

"Please, Jaclyn," I pressed my teeth together at the pain within his plea. "I need to tell you something…"

'I can't hear this,' I thought frantically. My scars are too fresh, too vulnerable. I knew my mask wouldn't hold. He seemed to be waiting for acceptance and I drank my tea in a large gulp, trying to bide my time and hide my face.

I stood up from the table, and brought my cup to the sink, once again turning my back to him. The sunlight danced merrily in rough contrast to the pin-like teetering of tension between us. I swore within my head as I heard his chair scrape away from the table and him rise to his feet.

I couldn't keep hiding from this, I thought as I tugged at the neck of my blue summer robes which were threatening to spill dangerously low on my chest. I suddenly felt self-conscious of my appearance in front of him. I turned more quickly than I had intended to and found him a mere foot from my face.

My stomach tightened painfully at the sight of his expression, and my hands felt like useless awkward weights hanging daintily at my side. He stared at me in silence for a moment. I watched his hands clench tightly at his side like he was refraining from reaching towards me.

"What?" I hoped he caught the double meaning in my words. The question had come out as though I were questioning his closeness to me, but secretly, in that deeper unmasked section of my heart, there was a fire burning that desperately wanted to know what he had started to tell me moments ago.

Before he could answer though, fate swung yet another awkward slap in my direction, and I heard the front door being thrown open with a loud bang. Both of us whipped in the direction of the door, and the sound of many shouting, bright, cheerful voices infiltrated the house like a violent awakening. They were here.

The brightness of their voices was like a cruel applause to my shattered hopes as the noise flooded through the crack of the kitchen door. Out the window I could hear the sound of multiple car engines gunning out of the sky the pops of people apparating onto the front lawn.

I turned back quickly to face her, but she was already moving past me, towards the door. 'No,' I thought, terrified. I had been so close. This was the moment I had been surviving off of for the last year, and it was slipping from my fingers.

I had spent twelve months living, breathing, and dreaming about her…about coming back to her. I stood rooted in my spot as she passed through the kitchen door and let it fall shut behind her. I felt like I couldn't breathe. 'I'm too late.'

I heard my father outside the window say to my mother, "Sirius' broom is here, he must be inside," and realized I had to face the family. Yet, my heart hurt with such agonizing disappointment that I felt like I would rather die on the spot than step through that door into the face of her cold rejection again.

I ran my hand through the back of my hair and down to my eyes. Pressing my fingers into them I watched the shower of dancing lights appear in front of my eyelids and pressed my lips together to muffle a choked sob of regret.

She was so hard, so distant. 'I made her that way,' I thought wretchedly, inhaling sharply as I remembered the look of misery and hurt on her face when she first saw me. I wondered who hurt more, her or me.

As I dragged dead weight back to the door, I let free the monster of regret from the back of my mind and allowed it to tow me into the painful memory of our last night together.

I apparated noiselessly onto the front lawn of Number Twelve Grimauld Place. The full moon shone down on me mockingly as I sank, exhausted, onto the front steps and let my head fall heavily into my large hands. I felt nauseous and my head spun slightly as I gripped it tightly with my fingers.

It was past midnight, and already I was feeling better than I had hours ago. Still, as I raised my head once more and got to my feet unsteadily, the weakness in my limp muscles made me ashamed.

The house stood dark and foreboding in the moonlight ahead of me as my long, usually powerful, legs struggled to propel me up the steps. I stood in indecision for minutes in front of the door, reading the inscription above it over and over again.

"The noble house of Black and Potter," I read. I repeated it in my head over and over again, not really focusing on the words. My mind and heart were waging a fierce inner battle within my chest and I sought to drown out the echoes of their clashing swords with the words.

"The noble house of Black and Potter," I read for the fifteenth time. Steeling my resolve I stepped forward and traced my warm, damp finger along the outline of a rearing stag to the right of the plaque. "Sirius Lupin," I recited to no one. I then traced my finger along the outline of a large black dog, its teeth bared against the sky to the left of the plaque.

I felt the protective magic course through me, judging me, judging my integrity and intention, red hot and strong against the other poison that ran through my veins on this night. I wondered momentarily if the magic in the wards could sense the venom in my blood, and then the door swung silently open in front of me.

I felt a sense of unease come over me as I realized I was breaking into the Headquarters of the Order of the Pheonix in the dead of night. The hallways stood dark and foreboding ahead of me, and I turned and closed the door behind me as silently as I could manage.

Suddenly plunged into darkness, I felt slowly forward with my feet, not daring to light my wand. When I felt the soft bump of my toe against the stairs, I groped for the slick wood railing and began to tip-toe up it.

During the daylight, I was Sirius Lupin and more than welcome in Number Twelve Grimauld Place, but in the dark of the night, I was simply a young eighteen year old man, fumbling awkwardly in the shadows, sneaking into the home of his equally young lover.

For one so young and stealthy, I thought mournfully as I reached the final step, nearly stumbling in anticipation of another, I felt so old and sick, and my heart felt burdened by the weight of years I didn't possess.

Her room was on the end of the hall. I stood in silent debate once more, engulfed in darkness and fearing that my beating heart would echo down the long hallways to the other bedrooms. My legs itched to turn around and forgo my task and my eyes, I cursed them for being so vulnerable, could barely stay open against the strain in my heart.

I set my mind to what I knew I had to do, and, turning left, found my way automatically to the door I knew was hers. The sweaty pads of my fingers rubbed against themselves, and I reached and turned the knob before I could stop myself.

Once inside, with the door shut firmly behind me, I took in the scene that surrounded me. It would be a scene that would plague my memories for the next year. The moonlight spilled through her open window and blanketed her long layers of red silk in an eerily alluring way as they sank down her pale forehead and off the edge of the bed.

One hand clasped a light white sheet tightly to her chest, and another lay open beside her cheek, pulling me towards it. I had heard the charms of the veela were more prevalent in the cover of night, and what I saw before me erased all doubt I had held of that thought.

Black eyelashes moved more slowly than usual in front of my eyes, and I grasped a hand to my heart and sank back against the door in the pain of heartbreak. As beautiful as she looked now, it was nothing compared to the first time I had seen her.

She had come to stay with Harry and Ginny Potter in their home the summer after she graduated from Beauxbatons. Her choice to become an Auror was cemented when Harry had offered his home and his training to her. Here was where she had stayed this entire, beautiful, fleeting summer…here was where I had first laid eyes on her and discovered what wise fools meant when they called it, "Love at first sight."

I loved her with every ounce of my heart. I sensed it long before I had known it. I felt that same heart rise up into my throat and choke the air out of me. I drifted breathlessly towards the window and put pleading hands against the glass. 'How dare you?' I asked the moon, suddenly filled with a senseless fury. 'How dare you steal this from me?'

As if in answer to my childish question, a cloud passed from in front of a corner of the moon and the pain in my head doubled momentarily before I was forced to look away. I felt the poison surge towards my head and I bent double, sick not only because of the full moon, but because of what I was about to do.

Straightening, I put my large hands against my abdomen to steady myself, and then in three long strides, her hand was in mine. I stroked her cheek, memorizing the feel of her skin within my mind. I wanted it to be forever etched in my memories. I felt her awake under my touch, and I traced her lips slowly with my finger, letting my hand fall down the length of her arm.

"Sirius?" she gasped and started to sit up. I put my finger to her lips. I didn't want Harry to know I was here. No one could know, and I could never, would never, explain. "Sirius…" she said again softly, sinking back against her pillow.

Her hair ruffled perfectly out behind her head and I allowed myself to simply stare at her for seconds before I could trust myself to speak. Wordlessly, I unlatched the golden catch on my cloak and let it crumple on the cold wood floor. Her eyes followed me quietly, trustingly as I untied my shoes and placed them on top of my cloak.

Locking my eyes onto her golden ones, I slipped myself under the sheet she had been grasping so tightly, and laid gently next to her. My heart beat furiously in my chest. This had not been my intent when I had come here. It had been quite the opposite. I needed to part from her, and at the same time, I so desperately needed to be close to her.

I had never felt like this before. My body was far longer than her slender frame and my broad shoulder towered over her relaxed form, yet here, in the place where she slept, my eyes naked in their intention, I had never felt closer to any other person in the world. This was love, I told myself against my will. This was trust.

The trust I knew I must break. I knew I should break. But intead, I found myself pulling her against my body and giving into the need within me. My arms brought her as closely as she would fit, her chest pressed against mine and her small hands grasping at the front of my shirt in response.

I let my eyes hold her gaze for a second more before lowering my lips to hers for what I told myself would be the last time ever. Our first kiss was so soft, so gentle, and so full of promise that I felt myself whispering to her within my head what I could never say aloud.

'I love you,' I thought.

I kissed her again. My lips gently melding against hers in a sweet heat. 'I always will.'

Again I pressed against her, this time with more intensity. 'I will give you everything I have.'

And quickly again, lingering longer and deeper against her lips. 'And everything that I am.'

I brought my lips down fully on hers now and grasped her face with both my hands. I needed her. I needed her to know that I loved her before it was too late. I enveloped her lips fully, now, refusing to separate and I poured every promise that spilled from my soul into her with a deep engulfing passion.

'Please don't ever leave me. Please don't let me ever leave you. I promise that I won't. I could never. I will always, and forever, truly, fully, and deeply love you, Jaclyn Weasley. Only you. There was only ever you. Please promise me that you know that. Please tell me you can hear me. Please, God, please…Have mercy…'

The sudden change in the end of my thoughts shocked me back into time and place. I couldn't do this. I felt sharp pangs all throughout my body. Pangs of need, pangs of desire, and pangs of sickness, and I knew that I couldn't stay.

I released her face from my hands, and pulled away as slowly as I had come. My eyes lingered for a moment on the finger prints on her cheeks, and a feeling of guilt washed over me.

"Sirius," her voice began before I could start. Her eyes looked up at my sitting form and her hand reached up and played with the straight black hairs on my neck. I felt goose bumps arise down my spine and I shut my eyes against it. I needed to be strong.

"Sirius," she said again, her voice soft and attractive in the darkness. "Stay with me tonight." It was so deep, so meaningful, so tempting. She let her hand fall down into mine and her eyes fall shut. For a moment I wondered, as I sat on her bed, my heart pounding painfully within my chest, if she had fallen asleep.

Then she spoke again, so softly that I wouldn't have heard weren't it for the stillness of the night. "I love you."

My heart came pounding to a halt. I knew it was true. She had never said that to me before. I had known she felt it, but hearing her say it, so pleadingly, so hopeful, so honest, I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces. Now, I knew what I had to do. There was no other way.

"I have to go," I said quietly. Her eyes flickered open and looked into mine. I could tell they were searching within mine for an explanation, and I looked at the door.

"Why?" She looked so vulnerable here in the moonlight, hanging on my response. The response I knew would break her heart. But it was better this way. She would hurt less in the end.

"I mean," I continued, not answering her question, "I'm leaving. For good." Her breath hitched in her chest. I could tell she was suppressing the flood of questions only with the pains of disbelief.

"I…" I pressed my eyes shut and turned my head so she wouldn't see the tears spilling from them. "I wont be able to see you again…ever." I knew I couldn't stay here. Every second that passed was causing me a deep physical pain. I couldn't look at her, or the moonlight, or this house any longer.

"Why?" The vulnerability in her voice was gone. I fumbled momentarily with the cloak I was putting on because of the venom in her words. Such cold fury, such hurt. It wasn't a question that could be left unanswered. Her tone demanded one.

"I have," I swallowed against the painful truth of my words, "nothing to give you. Nothing to offer," I said more firmly. I laced my shoes tightly, trying my best to create a pain anywhere else in my body but my heart.

I stumbled slowly towards the door, her silence at my back. Feeling closer to death that I had felt in my eighteen years, I turned the handle on the door and stepped out.

"You have love." Her words echoed against my back, penetrating my long dark robes and etching themselves with their sharp blade into my soul. She knew me. She could see it in me…she had heard my words of love.

Though it was truer than anything I had ever known in my life, I allowed myself only to pause for a moment before hanging my head, and shutting the door behind me. Once outside, I slumped silently against the solid wood, not realizing that I was waiting for her to come after me.

I waited in dark, miserable silence for four minutes without hearing one sound from within her room, and then, when I had almost given up all hope, I heard one strangled sob of utter heartbreak, followed by a muffling of wretched tears. Without waiting for her cries to tear anymore pieces out of my heart, I sprinted down the hallway, and out into the night.


End file.
